


Wish You Were Here

by thatonelesbianyouknow



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-10 21:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10447650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatonelesbianyouknow/pseuds/thatonelesbianyouknow
Summary: Many years ago, somewhere in Texas, the bassist of the world-renowned band Dethklok gets his start.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm experimenting with a thing....... it's been a while since i've written anything and if i finish this it's going to be long as fuck, so hopefully someone out there will enjoy it.

It was difficult to tell when one season started and another began. They lived in that awful region of Texas where the hot, humid air stuck to you like a wet rag to the face most days of the year. Even the subtle change in temperature in winter months didn’t alter the heavy, stifling feeling you got from stepping outside.

Between this and the monotonous drone of high school, William had trouble keeping track of the days this time of year. He couldn’t recall how many weeks it had been since starting his junior year, how many weeks he trudged through the same routines. There was no use in keeping track of the passage of time, not with the quality of his life. It was always the same thing, day in and day out. It would start with his grandma literally dragging him out of bed for school, and plopping him down at the kitchen table for breakfast. She did this every morning, a practice born from the obligation to be one of those picture perfect Texan housewives, and not from any actual brand of affection or desire to keep her grandson well-fed and educated. The food was always cold and slapped down on the table unceremoniously, and William would move the slop around with his fork, sometimes taking one or two bites and then feeding the rest to the dog.

Then he would go to school. If he moved quick enough, he was sometimes able to avoid his grandmother’s oppressive brand of parenting and an embarrassing drive to the front of the school, where Grandma Murderface, clothed in untied robe and slippers, would almost always accidentally flash a group of cheerleaders while dropping him off. Then he would go to all his classes, if only for a lack of anything else better to do, barely listening to lectures and just barely passing all his subjects. He would usually skip lunch period, not interested in trying to keep down anything the lunch ladies could possibly spoon out for him. After school, he would walk straight home. He would watch TV or play video games until his grandma threw dinner on the table, most of which would also go to the dog, and then eventually he would wander off to bed to start the whole process over again in the morning.

He had had the same routine for so long, he couldn’t remember when it started. It didn’t always used to be so mundane. He remembered going out with friends when he was younger, throwing rocks at cars and smoking weed in an old abandoned house a couple blocks down the road. But since then he had lost interest in causing trouble, and that old house had been torn down about two years back.

William felt like a ghost, just drifting through his daily routines and phasing through people’s line of sight. Even so, he felt no desire to change direction or call attention to himself. He used to, having been sent to the principal’s office one too many times for punching kids in the face and pulling girls’ pigtails on the playground, but after a while even that became too predictable. It was always the same outcome. He called attention to himself, and the backlash came back tenfold the next day. His classmates would have a different set of snide comments to spit in his direction, new nicknames, although the go-to would always be “Chainsaw Massacre,” as un-original as it was, evident by how many times the two words woulbe be spray painted on his locker or etched into his desk. It always came back to that. The practiced whispers that he was meant to hear: “Oh, watch out for Chainsaw Massacre! He’s going to lose it someday, just like his dad! I hope I’m not around when he finally snaps!” 

It was the same thing, day in, day out. At least if he didn’t go against the grain, it would be a little more peaceful.

The only moments he could break the routine, the only moments he could distinguish one day from the last, were the moments he had with his grandfather’s old hunting knife and handgun. Thunderbolt had no use for them anymore, with early onset Alzheimer’s already taking its toll on his mind. Stella had long ago taken the liberty of moving them somewhere where her husband’s hands would not go looking. But William’s did. He was able to keep them in his room, confident enough that his grandmother would not have a clue as to why he coveted them and not care about their new location, if she even paid enough mind to check on their security to begin with.

The knife was comfortable enough for him. It kept his hands busy, gave him something physical and real to focus on as he etched scribbles and nonsense slurs into his nightstand, or plunged it mindlessly into his mattress to remove the cheap stuffing underneath. And if that wasn’t enough, he could always turn it to himself. Just a little slice here and there. Maybe more. Just until his head started swimming, until the throbbing pain was enough to bring him into the present.

The gun was less comfortable. It was cold, strikingly unyielding. He wasn’t confident in handling a gun, only having gotten a few lessons from a more-lucid Thunderbolt when he was very young. But he knew how to load it, and how to turn the safety off. Pulling the trigger was a different story.

William found himself focusing on the image in front of him now, only just realizing it was there as if he had woken up from a deep sleep. It was a mirror, reflecting the image of himself standing there, holding a loaded gun to his own head. His finger was on the trigger.

He wondered how quickly it would happen. Would he feel anything? Would there be a release? Or would there be nothing at all as the bullet took him from this life to the next? How long would it be before Stella and Thunderbolt got home from one of Stella’s frequent bingo nights? How long before one of them would even think to go looking for him? Would his grandma cry? Would his grandpa even know what was happening?

William wasn’t sure how long he spent standing in front of the mirror, staring at himself. His mind sprited through every possible scenario.

It would be different. He wouldn’t have to go through the same day over and over again. He wouldn’t have to hear anything else from his classmates or any of the other people who whispered about him in this godforsaken small town. Even if nobody mourned, even if all they could say was “Well it’s no surprise, we all knew this was coming,” he wouldn’t have to hear it.

It would be something different.

Finally, his arm relaxed, separating the cold muzzle of the gun from his sweaty temple. He let it fall to his side with a sigh.

This was the same, too. Being too much of a pussy to pull the trigger. It was always the same thing.

William came back to his surroundings, and he suddenly became aware of a series of guttural snorts coming from behind him. He turned around to face his bed, and was met with the sight of his dog half-heartedly humping one of his pillows, staring William dead in the eyes as he did so.

“Ugh!” William spat in disgust. “Jackknife, fuck off! Get out!”

The fat little pug was successfully startled off of the object of his affections, hobbling off the bed and out of the room. William groaned to himself, turning back to the mirror and setting the handgun on his dresser. He hesitated for a moment, letting his gaze falter over the cold steel a little longer. He sighed, and started unloading the gun. He had loaded and unloaded this gun so many times, it had become second nature to him. Sometimes he thought about just leaving it loaded, so that maybe the next time it would be all the easier to get it over with. But he liked the flow of loading it, it was a trance-inducing series of motions that kept his hands busy. Maybe he was just making excuses.

He put the bullets back into the small ammo pouch they had come in, and stuffed that and the handgun itself back into the top drawer of his dresser, loosely covering it with the clothes inside.

He went to bed, after that. He didn’t know what time it was, or even if he would be able to fall asleep. But what was the difference between finding something vaguely better to do with his time and just staring at the ceiling for a few hours until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore? It’s not like something new and exciting was going to arise if he did get out of bed. He wasn’t going to miss anything.

It was the same shit again. Another day where he couldn’t do it. The same routine. Day in, day out.


	2. Chapter 2

“Grandma, I can walk from here, seriously.” William kept his head bowed, sinking into the cracked, stale-cigarette smelling leather of the car seat. He had dragged his feet this morning upon waking up, and he was paying the price. His grandma was on one to get him to school on time, their ancient car squeaking and groaning from the strain of being driven at such a reckless pace, and the only hope William had left was that she would drop him off far enough from the crowd of arriving students that he could avoid the early morning ridicule. Either that, or she would wrap them both around a telephone pole and the whole issue would be null. That was why he never bothered with a seat belt. Wishful thinking.

“What are you talking about?” Stella snapped, running over a curb as she peeled around the corner, sending William into the roof of the car.

“Motherfuck, grandma!” He yelped, clutching the back of his head in pain. Suddenly he was second-guessing his whole “no seat belt” decision.

“Watch your goddamn mouth!” Stella chided. The pitch and volume of her voice only served to make the pain in his head worse. “Is this where you want to be when Jesus comes back, William? Sleeping in and almost missing school, and cursing in front of your own grandmother?”

“Grandma, you can’t fuckin’ tell me about cursing and you- you’re the one taking the Lord’s name in vain and I- Grandma, I swear to God, drop me off at the fucking curb!”

“That’s time wasted, William!” She yelled. “I can’t believe how ungrateful you can be! I’m taking time out of my day to get you to school on time, and not even a thank you!”

“Grandma, drop me off at the curb! I’m gonna roll out of the fucking car, I swear to God!” Even as he said this, however, the entrance of the school was already too close for comfort, and he knew his effort were for naught.

“Don’t you embarrass this family like that, William!” Stella said, screeching to a halt in front of the school, under the scrutiny of a couple dozen students who were already pointing and laughing at the rickety car. “I don’t know what to do with you, William! You need Jesus!”

William felt the hot flush of shame wash over him, and he grimaced as he clamored out of the car in a hurry. He turned back to his grandma, giving her a scowl through the open car door.

“ _Fuck_ Jesus!” He spat, slamming the door closed behind him just before Stella could finish her exclamation of “William Leslie Murderface!”

He winced, hoping no one could hear that through the closed car door, but as his grandma peeled away without another word, he looked to the crowd of students and realized the damage had been done regardless.

Some of the kids had already turned away to head inside before the first bell rang out, but a few stayed behind to snicker behind their hands at him. There was a group of members of the football team and a cheerleader that couldn’t even offer him that subpar level of subtlety. William gritted his teeth, readjusting his back pack and trudging towards the doors. The group of kids openly laughing at him trailed behind him.

“Aww, wassa matter, Willy?” One of the boys cooed mockingly, rustling William’s hair. “You have a fight with your gwandma? Afwaid she ain’t gonna bake you cookies after school now?”

William shook the hand off without looking behind him, scowling. “Fuck off, Brad.”

“Ohoho, tough guy!” A hand slapped William in the back roughly, sending him gut first into the bike rack in front of the doors. It knocked the wind out of him enough that he had to collapse over it to keep his balance, and while he couldn’t move the same hand came down to ruffle his hair again. “Whaddaya gonna do, Willy? Chainsaw me? Ohh, I’m quakin’ in my boots!”

The rest of the group laughed loudly, and William just said nothing, trying to keep his eyes on the ground. Brad snorted, punching him in the shoulder.

“I didn’t think so, troll. See your scrawny ass in class.”

William just stayed where he was, and waited for the group to go inside, chortling all the way. Then he waited for a little while longer, just stuck in the same position, staring numbly at the ground, doubled over on the bike rack. It wasn’t until the first bell rung that he dared move a muscle, hanging his head with a sigh. He was so fucking tired. He was simultaneously starving to the point of exhaustion, but too nauseous to even think about eating anything. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was go inside that building and do the same exact shit he did every day, acting like nothing was wrong.

He finally stood up straight and dragged his feet into the halls of the school.

-_-_-_-

As the final bell rang, William mulled around in his locker, keeping his head down as droves of kids shuffled past him to get outside. He tried to move slow towards the end of school, tried to keep a low profile, especially after a day like today, his only goal to be one of the last people to leave the building. It was easier that way, there was less of a chance of him being bothered on his walk back home.

Just as the murmur of the crowd began to die out, a voice from behind startled him from his mindless haze.

“Hey, uh, you’re the kid that sits in front of me in first period History, right?”

William whipped around, coming face to face with a girl. 

A girl. A girl. 

At first, that was all he could process. He stared at her, open mouthed, unable to think of a response. She raised her eyebrow after a couple of beats of silence.

“Uh? First period U.S. History?” She clarified. “I’ve been sitting right behind you in it? For like... three months?”

It slowly dawned on William that he had to say something in reply to her, and as he scrambled for words he was able to get a grasp on the whole picture. She was a new wave chick, one of those more understated ones, didn’t take up too much space or attention with what she wore like some of them did. She was tall, taller than William, with long, messy dishwater blonde hair to match. William knew her now, knew she sat directly behind him in his first class, but had never taken notice of her beyond a passing glance. She was pretty, not strikingly so, but regardless William had never been one to pine after a pretty girl for fear of being spurned at best, or mercilessly mocked at worst.

It wasn’t often that someone in this school, hell, in this town, approached William with no immediate ill intent, let alone a girl. Girls tended to keep a generous distance from him altogether. He was still reeling from her introduction, confused by and wary of her intentions, but he managed to string enough words together to at least speak to her.

“I, uh, I-” He stammered, swallowing roughly. “Y-yeah, I know you. Kind of.”

“Um, well, okay,” she said, his halted speech seemingly making her uncomfortable. But she continued regardless, scratching the back of her head before holding up her hand in a small wave. “Well, I’m Elise, if you didn’t catch that. And, anyway, the reason I’m asking is... well, I kind of like... fucked up. And slept through first period this morning. And I’m like... bombing that class as it is, and that big test’s coming up in a few weeks, and I need everything I can get. Do you have notes from today or something?”

William could only stare at her for a moment, blinking dumbly.

“Why are you asking me?” He blurted out.

Elise seemed a little taken aback by the question. She rocked back on her heels, almost taking a step back.

“Sorry, it’s just-” She paused, and her eyes drifted off to the side, thinking of the right words to say. “It seems like you’re into this Civil War shit we’re doing right now. Like you know your shit. I don’t know, I’ve had classes with you before, and this is the only one I’ve ever heard you talk in. And I know for a fact everyone else in that class is a dumbshit. They’re all bombing too. I mean, if we’re being honest you aren’t the first person I asked. But you’re kind of a wildcard, I guess.”

William felt his cheeks heat up, not knowing the reason why. Was it just because a girl noticed him in that way? That anyone noticed him like that? She wasn’t wrong. History was usually the one subject that could keep him going throughout the years, especially U.S. History. He tried not to show how interested he was in it, mostly because he liked all of the most morbid aspects of it. The whole brother against brother thing, assassinations, government conspiracies and the like, and he knew that wouldn’t do anything to help convince his fellow students that he wasn’t a budding serial killer.

“I... don’t take notes,” he answered quickly. It was the truth. As much as he liked the subject, it still didn’t give him the energy to be that fully invested in his classwork.

“Oh,” she replied, disappointed. With the way she wilted, William expected her to turn back in defeat, but instead she looked up at him in desperation. “Well, are you sure you can’t help at all? Sorry, it’s just... I really need a decent grade in this class. My parents are going to kill me if my GPA drops any lower, they’ll put me through summer school. I’ll do anything to not bomb this next test, dude.”

William was thrown off by her newfound vigor, and he didn’t know what to say. Elise’s expression changed, and she laughed nervously, waving her hand.

“Shit, sorry, I’m putting a lot on a guy that probably didn’t remember my name up until two minutes ago,” she said. “You probably want to get home anyway. Look, can you do me a favor? Can you just think about it? I mean, if you can help me, I’d really owe you one. I’m pretty desperate at this point. If you can’t, I’ll survive I guess, but... like I said. You’re the wildcard, y’know?”

“I-” William started to reply, almost refusing outright. This was just asking for trouble. Trouble he didn’t want to deal with. But at the same time... it would be something different. He couldn’t bring himself to shoot her down immediately. “Y-yeah, I guess I can think about it.”

“Awesome.” Elise’s face lit up with a lazy grin, and it only made William more flustered. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow, anyway. I’ll ask again there. Catch you later.”

With a relaxed wave of her hand, she retreated down the hall, following the path of all the students that had long since evacuated before them. William stood frozen by his locker for some time, until a weird look from a janitor attempting to mop the floors sent him scampering to the door. He had an impending sense of dread settling in the pit of his stomach the entire walk home, unsure of what to do. It was a strange situation, wasn’t it? Even if everyone else in the class was completely brain-dead , which Elise’s defense was the only thing about that conversation that William could confirm was the truth, would that really be enough to send someone looking to him? Him? William Murderface? The unaminously-decided town freak? He tried to think rationally about it, but rational thinking was not his strongest suit, and he came up empty-handed.

It would be something different. But he had to tread lightly. He wasn’t going to let a random pretty face make him throw all careful reasoning out the window. Was he?

He was back at his house by this time, and he stopped short at his front door, staring numbly at the cracked white paint and the whorls in the wood. He realized that his heart was racing, that it had been ever since he turned around and saw Elise standing behind him. He also realized that the interaction was the longest, most non-threatening conversations he could remember having with one of his peers in a long, _long_ time.

God. He was going to let a random pretty face make him throw all careful reasoning out the window, wasn’t he?


	3. Chapter 3

William managed to crawl out of bed early enough to avoid a repeat of the previous day, side-stepping his grandmother’s curious brand of parenting all together. But he dragged his feet to school, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to realize the snail’s pace he was keeping, and by the time he entered the halls of school the first bell had already rung. 

The history teacher, a stern and stand-offish man named Mr. Duplantier, was already in the middle of his lesson by the time William sheepishly entered the classroom, giving him nothing more than an accusatory glance before returning his attention to the rest of the class. William would hopefully get a pass for his tardiness-- the old man was so bitter and burnt out that he would very rarely spend the time to even fill out a detention slip for minor classroom infringements like this. The entire school was nothing special, the student body consisting mostly of uninterested teenagers with no real aspirations in life, who would move on after graduation to join the military or take up menial labor jobs, but this class in particular somehow seemed to bring in the worst of them. It was the unofficial remedial class, full of burn outs and dumb shits that could barely even spell out their own name, let alone stay awake for long enough to take in the material. There always seemed to be a dull chaotic air in the classroom, the students having no motivation to sit still and learn, and the teacher having no motivation to teach or correct them.

William looked over to his seat, and noticed Elise sitting at the desk behind him, as she always did. But this was the first time that he had ever really taken notice of her, and it made his chest tighten. She was looking up at him expectantly, offering a small smile. William swallowed, his Adam’s apple jerking, and he made his way to his seat and sat down.

He hadn’t planned on saying anything right then, especially not since he had already caught Mr. Duplantier’s attention, but after a few minutes he could sense Elise leaning forward to talk to him.

“So, what’s the deal?” She whispered, her breath hitting the back of William’s neck and forcing him to hold back a shiver. In all honesty, it wasn’t that exciting, but it was early in the morning and awkward and probably the closest a girl had ever gotten to him in his life, and for a moment he couldn’t reply. He could only pray to God that he wouldn’t pop a fear stiffy and put an end to everything before it even began. 

After a sufficient mantra of _don’t get a boner, don’t get a boner, for the love of God don’t get a boner_ was recited in his head, he took a breath.

“Yeah, I’ll help you out.” He replied. He hoped he sounded cool and collected, after having practiced the phrase in his head a thousand times on his way to school, being sure to sound appropriately aloof and not too desperate and leave out any pesky words that would exacerbate his lisp. But his nerves got the better of him, and after a beat he hastily added, “I mean, if you still wanna.”

He could have punched himself right then and there for sounding like such a dweeb, but Elise chuckled quietly.

“It’s worth a try, right?” She said. “Do you wanna meet up at lunch? We can go to the park or something. I’ll be able to hear myself think there.”

“Uh, sure,” William replied. “Sounds good.”

William sank into his chair then, not sure if that sounded cool, or if it was even possible to sound cool in so few words, but he was certain that he had probably fucked it up anyway. If not now, later. He was bound to fuck this up eventually. He would either say something stupid, or it would turn out that he would be too stupid to help her with her work and she would blow him off anyway, or something even more stupid that he was too stupid to even imagine. He didn’t want to be this desperate for someone’s approval, especially when he knew nothing about Elise or her true intentions. But now that it was in his grasp, he couldn’t think about anything else.


End file.
